


He Wanted War, She Wanted Peace; In Pieces, They Collide

by RodeoQueen



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Bottom Vergil (DmC), Dominatrix, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, Light BDSM, My Second Smut, Out of Character Vergil (Devil May Cry), Post-DMC 5, Pre-DmC: Devil May Cry, Smut, Sub Vergil (Devil May Cry), Unhappy Ending, kali uchis plays in the background, lovers to strangers, not even friends, reader is half-succubus, top reader, vague plot but certain emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodeoQueen/pseuds/RodeoQueen
Summary: She pursued him, the demon in a human shell. Their time together meant no good, a match to silk and feathers, devastation imminent.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/You
Kudos: 23





	He Wanted War, She Wanted Peace; In Pieces, They Collide

**Author's Note:**

> I see Dante and write him in loving situations and kiss him on his big stupid head. I see Vergil..and I write him in these situations..and then I pimp smack him with my AP Calculus textbook. 
> 
> -Reader is not Nero's mom.

He wanted War, She wanted Peace. 

She was young and she was in love with him, the oldest of the Sparda twins who wanted tyranny on behalf of his family crest. 

The human with a succubus’ tail and wings, she pursued the demon in a human shell. The lust-driven demon blood within her stagnant, her human heart yearning and beating for tender touches and languid kisses. The spot between her ribs was her kindred heart, a rose blossom waiting to bloom when the right man would come and beckon her. So in her best makeup and dress, she awaited the world with soft doe eyes. 

He was young and he was indifferent to her, the youngest of a line of lowly succubi, who wanted redemption in her heritage. 

Vergil had long sealed away his heart, abandoned by his mother to fend for his own. His childhood hope of being saved landing him onto the cold ground, as demons stood before him. Ice was all he knew, cold was all he became. And as he became a young adult, his heart had shriveled like a fruit in the unforgiving sun while he left the rest of himself in the dark. With the Yamato in hand and a trail of blood, he pursued the world with hard hateful eyes.

When they have met, it was of innocent conversation on the street. An encounter Vergil was foreign to.  
With her sparkling eyes and gently curled eyelashes, Vergil found something in him stirred. A need to own, a need to corrupt. Although they started, her kindness ever-present and her docileness unconditional. Their time together meant no good, a match to silk and feathers, devastation imminent. 

She knew of his cold demeanor and knew it best not to ask too much, fearing he might leave her. Despite his barely periodic visits and her taking the initiative to start anything with him, she was convinced he loved her. He did not pull away, he only stayed. And that’s all she wanted. At least, that’s what she persuaded herself. 

He was her first love, and her first to lay with her. 

Vergil did not feed his heart, his true desires when she kissed him first and he did not push away. His demon licked its maw, waiting for destruction, to tear its claws into her chest. 

She was his first. 

In the finest silks she could afford, she sat on her bed and awaited her love. She fantasized it, the white-haired male languidly rolling his hips into hers as he whispered words of love and affirmation, breaking the cold barrier he always displayed her. She could whisper back and he’d kiss her passionately. He would then go out in public with her, hand in hand like the humans. She could finally be loved by another, the two half-devils becoming wholly each others. 

She is facing away from him when she allows the beast within Vergil to come from the shadows. It is completely quiet, the silence frightening as no words were exchanged. Only small grunts and her personal sounds of discomfort. She is wholly consumed, covered in bruises and scratches. He leaves shortly after. She feels a tear slip down her face, dreams deferred. 

Vergil finally feels the control, the visceral nature of their joining. His heart remained unbeaten unlike her own, which he can sense is fluttering. His demon purs, demanding drawn blood and bite marks and her poor little human soul is ever receiving. 

His claws rip through the silk sheets on her bed and her heart. 

Led on for months, she feels the petals she grew for herself plucked one after another. With each nightly visit, Vergil grows farther and farther away from her.

“Do you love me?” She asks, holding her ripped babydoll to her frame. He doesn’t even look at her. 

“Devils don’t love.” 

He disappears. He never comes back. 

Before she could even bloom, she stumbles into her garden and finds that the sacred rose is nothing but thorns. She thinks of all the times she says she loves him, and how many times she is given silence. She has been lied to and she has deceived herself. The human half cries for itself, curling into a ball, while her inner devil ascends its banishment. After crying into her pillows, she glares into her mirror. Countless times had she seen her supposed beloved’s face while he consumed her. Only now had she realized she could not remember seeing her own. For the first time, she sees who she is meant to be. With her mascara streaked down her face, she feels her eyes harden. The Sparda bloodline kills its first human, to replace her with a demon of lust and horns. 

She had walked into the valley of blood with her eyes closed and hears only a river of pure water. By the time she had awakened to the reality, she had been doused in ochre. 

She disappears into the night, luring a well-meaning gentleman. 

She tears into his soul and he is a husk. She does it again. And again. She finds her power in other’s damnation. The black blood within her pumps through her, the she-devil all that she will ever be. 

She never asks for love again. 

After coming back from Hell, Vergil sees her for the first time in what seems like a whole lifetime. After amending his sins, avenging the countless faceless people he has killed, he is looking at one of his biggest regrets in the face. And she is staring back with a hungry look in her glinting eyes. She has forgone her human heart, the long awaiting devil inside in control. Vergil is pulled into the eye of the storm, asking for her time.

The tides have changed, the water blood red and flowing towards him. 

They meet each night, her leather corset ever so tight on her supple skin. He is tied to her bed, her tail trailing up his thigh. She is the darkness and he is jaded of being exposed to the light. 

Hours of debauchery pass, and it is quiet except for his desperate moans. It hurts when he goes back to Devil May Cry, with clawed skin. It is quiet here. Trish will not look at him, reminding him of his own mother on that terrible day. He tries not to think about it. Dante tries his best to make his brother feel better but even he knows, Vergil will not be fixed with simple validations. He does not, he cannot redeem himself. He is told he is not beyond salvation. Despite this, he delves into the vortex she has become. 

She has killed and robbed men of their souls and their life, yet her mercy to Vergil is his saving grace. He is not punished with pitying looks when he is with his old flame. Instead, he has become trapped in her web of carnal desire, hands trapped above his head. Her long nails scrape against his scarred skin. Her dark-red lips trace his jugular but never going in for the kill. She won’t let him get away that easily, away from the pure sin that has become of her. He knows this, and he still comes crawling back.

He truly did wish he returned the affections she once placed upon him, he should have warmed his heart. Without the rough feel of the leather bondage she placed him in, the painful euphoria, and the demeaning words that dig into his soul, in the afterglow all he feels is regret. He is addicted to her poison, a Hyacinth growing on the corpse of a rose. She is not the same young woman with flowery scented skin. She has aged like wine, and the years have laced cyanide into her veins. She is a deadly nirvana in black heels. 

One faithful night, he finally tells her that he has changed and wants to redeem himself. She smiles and she is all fangs. 

“Devils may change. But a devil never loves.” She laughs and Vergil cannot fix what he has created.

She releases his bonds, sitting on his hips. She throws the cuffs away, his eyes widen. 

“For old times’ sake.” She muses, slinking off of him. She is below his strong form, and she is moaning. He revels in it, finally giving her what he should have given to her during their first time in her room. But when he meets her eyes, all he sees is a frigid dominatrix. 

He is above her and he knows very well, he is the one who is captured by her. He sees the pink hues she used to wear just for him, the young and infatuated Eve to his indifferent Adam. He is wrong. She is Lilith and she is here to reap the heart he has finally offered to her. She crushes it with her manicured hands and spills the red nectar onto her skin, smearing it on his face. Vergil allows himself to fall to her, at last. He has lost everything and even as he climaxes he is falling.

In pieces, they collide.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Local Man Cries While Nutting  
> If it makes you feel better, I'm writing another fic with Vergil in it that's wayyyy softer to make up for this emotional baseball bat to the face. 
> 
> Like, comment, and subscribe: It's like a cup of hazelnut coffee with coconut milk to me- always keeping me going.


End file.
